


Ghost

by aggiepuff



Series: Ghost [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 05:08:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6597973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aggiepuff/pseuds/aggiepuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Magdalena "Lena" Ramirez, codename "Ghost," is a Cuban experiment--ex-Cuban experiment, resident SHIELD Retrieval Specialist, and this Soulmark thing is not all it's cracked up to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Lena’s Soulmark is _wrong_. She remembers when the words first came. She was nine when her upper left bicep had begun to itch. She was on a mission so she had ignored it until she was home later that night. She’d been preparing for bed when she’d glanced in the mirror and froze. Blood red, shaped like a star, written in elegant calligraphic script, the words, “I don’t have one.” Lena had been so excited. She had a Soulmate! She had immediately told Master. He hadn’t seemed as pleased but she didn’t care. When she woke the next morning she had immediately rushed to the bathroom mirror. The words were gone.

The pattern continued, random and untrackable. They appear, heralded by the burning itch that mark the arrival of all Soulmarks, only to disappear again, never giving answers only leaving more questions. “I don’t have one.” What does her Soulmate not have? Lena doesn’t know. The longest words have ever stayed was for a week when she was sixteen. That was the week Master thought to try and take the Mark away from her. Lena hadn’t realized how much Master and her other Handlers had hated her Soulmark. It disrupted their Ultimate Plan, capitalization completely necessary. She was their Crowning Achievement: the product of decades of experimentation and failed tests finally culminating in her, their perfect asset. 

She overheard their plan. They wanted to burn the Mark from her skin, burn the soul right out of her. Well, she burned them first, left them buried in the smoldering rubble of her first home, their charred husks the only things left to understand that her Soulmark may be wrong and her young soul may be _stained red_ and rest alongside a heart _blacker_ than a black hole but they are still _hers_ , not another thing for them to take or destroy.

It's been so long now since she’s seen her Soulmark that Lena can only barely remember what the Mark looks like. In its place she goes to the special division of SHIELD that can hide a person's Mark or give them a fake one that seems just as real as anything natural and has a Mark painted onto the inside of her right wrist, a simple “Hello” in generic handwriting. She does this in preparation of a mission because while Blanks do exist they are rare, barely one percent of the population, and are too easily remembered. It’s as she takes another sip of cheap champagne that she feels a telltale itching burn on her left shoulder.  
  
_Mierda._

Before anyone can notice the biological impossibility she's blatantly parading Lena pulls the fire alarm. As the beautifully dressed guests of this particular elitist social function shriek and scramble for the exit she triggers her mutation, grabs the gem of unknown alien origin the size of her two fists held together that SHIELD has asked her to retrieve and is coincidently the centerpiece of this shindig, stuffs it into her beaded silver purse and slips out the side exit. Ten minutes later she's being picked up by a SHIELD Quinjet and thirty minutes after that she's being lectured by Sitwell over video call. 

Lena ignores Sitwell, patiently waiting for him to finish his tirade over her “sloppy” retrieval—she misses Coulson the most at times like this; his lectures were a lot scarier—so she can scrub off her war paint and hit the sack. She's tired and irritable and very grateful Stark is in Malibu right now because she'd probably end up kneeing him in the balls after one stupid comment too many. She doesn’t bother to tell Sitwell about her Mark.

When Lena finally makes it to her own beautifully silent room in Avengers Tower (which takes longer than it should have) she lets her slinky, royal blue, floor length dress fall to the floor. It pools at her feet and she steps away from it, heading to the bathroom. She studies her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her skin is Latina bronze, warm and smooth. Thick, jet black hair flows over her shoulders down to the middle of her back in loose, styled curls. Behind full, plump lips she knows her teeth are ivory white and perfectly straight. Even her eyebrows are perfect black arches over bright, cobalt blue eyes. She hates it. She hates every infuriating, _perfect_ detail. _They_ made her like this. A perfect little doll concocted in a test tube in a sterile lab hidden the heart of the Cuban jungles. 

She grits her teeth, forcing her gaze away from her face, down to her shoulder. Clear against dark skin, the words are still the same: blood red, in the shape of a star, written in an elegant old-fashioned hand, “I don’t have one.” They haven’t changed since they last appeared and still she stares. For just one moment she allows herself to daydream of a handsome man or a beautiful woman—she can go either way—smiling at her. Her shoulders relax, she closes her eyes, her head tilts back. In her mind’s eye her Soulmate smiles at her as if she is the most important person in the world. It's the kind of smile everyone dreams about and for a moment, just one moment, Lena allows herself to dream the far flung dream that maybe, one day, someone will smile at her like that.

Three days later Lena's fake Mark courtesy of SHIELD's R&D gremlins has faded but her real one has not—if anything, the words seem to have gotten clearer—and she's been sent to a SHIELD field base in Italy (called The Embassy) which she is so not complaining about because, hello, gelato. Eight days after that all hell breaks loose with Helicarriers falling out of the sky, HYDRA rearing its ugly head, and all of SHIELD's dirty laundry being dumped onto the internet courtesy of the Black Widow for the entire world to see. The number of loyal SHIELD Agents outnumbers the HYDRA interlopers at The Embassy. They and Lena beat HYDRA’s forces soundly, round up all those who manage to survive and, when SHIELD isn’t looking, Lena sneaks into their cells and slits every HYDRA throat. It’s nothing personal; she’d just rather not have to watch her back for the rest of her life.

Personal mission complete, Lena doesn't stick around. 

She wanders around Europe for 3 months until she gets a call from Callie. Technically the call is from Charles Xavier via Cerebro but that’s just semantics. Callie informs her through Xavier that it is safe to come back to Avengers Tower and that there will be a Starkjet waiting for her at a private airport just outside of the city in less than an hour and that Callie fully expects Lena to be on it or else. Lena can hear Xavier's smile in her mind at that last bit and Lena can't help but smile too. Callie Marks is all of five feet one inch and weighs a maximum of 110lbs soaking wet whereas Lena is five feet nine inches tall and a curvy, muscular 155lbs. Needless to say, Callie's is a rather empty threat. Still, Lena promptly picks up her rucksack, throws it over her shoulder and hails a taxi. 

Upon her return to Avengers Tower Lena makes a beeline for Callie's suite, even going so far as to turn invisible so she's not hampered by the security guys in black at the front desk. Once inside the Avengers' private elevator that goes straight to the team's apartments and the labs she rematerializes and is greeted by JARVIS who sounds almost happy to have her back. 

When Lena tells the AI to take her to Callie's floor which she shares with Dr. Foster and the Tower’s Lab Manager Darcy Lewis the AI informs the Retrieval Specialist that former SHIELD Agent Marks is not on the premises and has not been for almost two months. Lena sees red. "What do you mean she's not here?!"

"Agent Marks departed the Tower seven weeks, three days, and 17 hours ago. The only possessions she took with her were a bag full of clothes, toiletries, and her secure SHIELD laptop." JARVIS has gone from happy to prim. Lena forces herself to remember that Callie's absence is not his fault. 

"Do you know where she went?"

"I do not though she did ask me to tell you, should you ask, that she is "going home". Does that answer your question Agent Ramirez?"

Lena feels the sigh deep in her chest. "Yes," she tells the AI as she steps off the elevator onto the floor she shares with Natasha and Clint. Already she's trying to decide which of Tony's cars she's going to steal for a quick road trip up to Westchester. 

Turns out Callie has a very good reason to not return to New York just yet so Lena leaves her with their adopted mother Cora Redrock and a promise to visit Callie every other month. She returns to Avengers’ Tower and life goes on for a while after that. Stark offers her a job as a security consultant which she gladly takes because hey, why not? She doesn’t want anyone else in charge of the security for where she sleeps. Lena, Pepper, Jane, and Darcy start to have biweekly girls-only lunches and while it isn’t anywhere near normal it doesn’t suck as bad as Lena first though it would. There’s the occasional super villain who thinks he can take over the world and when Jane and Darcy have their adventure in London Lena is a little upset they didn’t invite her but, hey, those pesky dark elves or whatever they’re called don’t wait for transatlantic flights.

Its two years before Lena sees hide or hair of her former partners. Natasha has been busy remaking herself into someone she can be proud of and Clint, well, Lena doesn’t know where Clint’s been. If not for the occasional message from them Lena probably would have panicked about them being AWOL a lot sooner but the super spies have kept in touch so she’s been able to be relatively calm about their extended leave of absence. After two years of sabbatical though both of them just show up in the Tower one day and Lena is more than okay with that. She’s missed them.

Natasha and Clint have been back all of two months before something truly interesting happens. After reappearing Natasha had immediately reinstated she and Lena’s gymnastics/ballet lessons. They’re in the studio Stark had outfitted for them specifically when who should walk in but Captain America himself. 

Lena has mixed feelings about this. 

On the one hand, she’s glad to see her teammate alive and well. On the other, she’d like nothing more than to punch the little punk in the face. The second option wins.

Hand balled into a tight fist just like Clint taught her, Lena marches right up to the national treasure, rears back, and lets him have it. She doesn’t regret it, not when she hears a bone in her hand crack, not when the hobo-looking guy who is the Cap’s shadow yanks her away. Lena turns on him, grips his arms and suddenly she’s getting the stuffing beat out of her. 

Dimly Lena hears Natasha’s voice yelling, something about getting the Captain to stop them. Lena herself is too busy trying to fight her way free of whatever jackhole this guy is to really pay attention to what she’s saying. Cool metal closes around her arms and holy fuck does this guy have a metal arm?!

A thick band encircles her waist and yanks. Lena is jerked back into a rock hard chest. Steve twists, depositing her in Natasha’s deceptively strong arms. Nat grips Lena, holding her back but Lena has fulfilled her desire to sucker punch Steve and relaxes. Instead she turns her attention to Steve’s buddy. 

The first thing she notices is that he’s tall, not as tall as Steve but still tall. The next thing she notices is that, yes, he does have a metal arm and it has a very nice red star design on the left shoulder. The third thing she notices is his brown hair which just brushes his shoulders. The fourth, and probably most important, thing she notices is that he’s attractive, like, ridiculously so. 

Steve, being Steve, isn’t angry that Lena punched him. “What was that for?” he asks, big blue eyes wide and innocently confused.

Lena scowls. “You should visit the X-Mansion,” she snaps. It’s not her place to tell but that doesn’t mean she’s not going to be pissed at him.

Steve nods but his large hand reaches up to rub his jaw. Lena’s scowl darkens. There’s not going to even be a bruise. Cry baby. Lena turns on her heel before she can be overcome by the urge to smash his stupid pretty boy face in again. She needs to relax, decompress. The Met has a new security system. Maybe she should go test it, just to make sure the artwork is safe from thieves a lot less talented than she. 

Behind her she hears a masculine baritone voice say, “I thought you said they liked you here.”

It takes three days before Lena sees Steve’s scary hobo-shadow again. Steve disappeared the same day she punched him and Lena has no doubt he hightailed it up to Westchester and has been there ever since. It makes her smile to think of Callie reunited with Steve. Her little sister has been so gone for her Soulmate ever since they met. Add little Sarah Margaret to the mix and Callie’s on her way to having that happy family she’s always, if not craved, definitely deserved. 

Lena has the dummy Tony programmed to help her practice pick-pocketing all set up in the middle of the gym floor and she’s running through a warm-up when the scary hobo walks in. 

Lena has her back to him but she feels a presence behind her and she thinks its Natasha; she’s in their special gym so it only stands to reason. Without looking around she holds out her hand, the one she had to bandage because apparently punching Captain America in the jaw will get you multiple hairline fractures on your knuckles. “Lend me a hair-tie?”

Slowly, as if he’s afraid he’s going to mess up the words, he says, “I don’t have one.”

Lena’s heart stops. She whips around, wide eyes staring up at him. His brown eyes are bright, curious. Slowly her gaze slides down, searching his torso. “W-words,” she stutters. 

Hobo-man immediately turns and lifts up his second-hand t-shirt. There, in thick gray-blue calligraphy, on his right shoulder blade. _Lend me a hair-tie._

Lena stumbles back, too shocked to speak.

Bucky turns around slowly. He'd seen the look in the woman's eyes, the one who punched Steve, knows that she's terrified and he can only assume it's because she knows who he is, knows her Soulmate is a monster. He wants so desperately to hold her, thank her for being alive, for being real. Her words, the color of storm clouds, etched into his skin, they've kept him sane. He's held onto them for the past 28 years, secure in the knowledge that she was out there, somewhere. 

The woman—Lena he quickly reminds himself, Steve called her Lena—is still staring at him with eyes a deeper, brighter blue than Steve's and as wide as saucers. They stare at each other, eyes locked. Neither knows what to say. The silence is heavy, almost suffocating. Bucky opens his mouth to speak, to say something, anything, but before he can utter a sound Lena is gone. 

When Lena disappears it’s not in the sense that she ran out of the room. She is literally gone. One minute she's there and the next she's vanished, like a ghost. Gone in a blink only Bucky hasn’t blinked, he’s barely breathed and still she’s disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mierda – (Spanish) Shit; Fuck


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena is gone and Bucky is confused

Steve returns to The Tower the next day, bringing with him his Soulmate Callie Marks and the daughter she apparently had while Steve was out chasing Bucky. He also brings a message for Bucky from an old friend: Cora Redrock, the one-time Communications Officer for the Howling Commandos, expects to hear from him. Soon.

The addition of little Sarah Margaret, nicknamed Sammy, to the Tower has an instant affect. With Steve’s blue eyes and blonde corkscrew curls combined with Callie’s creamed coffee skin and wide, happy smile she is the prettiest child Bucky has ever seen. When she smiles at him he knows there is nothing he wouldn’t do for his precious Goddaughter. The sentiment seems to be shared by the rest of the Avengers who have collectively decided that they are her new aunts and uncles (he swears this kid is going to be the most well protected child in existence with the Avengers _and_ the X-Men as her personal bodyguards). Bucky knows Stark bought Fisher Price specifically so he can make new and improved toys for her. He’s walked in on Natasha cuddling the child while watching cartoons, tucking her little blonde head under her chin and rocking her to sleep, whispering in Russian; Sam listens to her toddler babble with as much concentration as he would a veteran at the VA; Clint plays with her whenever he can and Bruce is surprisingly good at calming her when she is gearing up to cry; Darcy helps feed her and Jane talks to her, explaining science to her while Thor beams at his intended before whisking the little toddler onto his broad shoulders and carrying her back to her parents. And Steve? Bucky has never seen Steve so completely, irrevocably smitten. He dotes on his daughter as if he is attempting to make up for missing the first two years of her life. Steve is almost constantly with her and Bucky knows he’s turned down missions specifically so he can spend more time with her. Callie watches all of this with a quiet smile.

Bucky is the first person to whom Steve introduces Sammy. He’s sitting in the apartment Stark gave him when he first arrived at the Tower. He will never admit it to Steve but he hasn’t really moved much farther from the couch since Lena disappeared. He is not sure why—he barely knows the woman—but her disappearance, her rejection, burns him deep in the remains of his tattered soul.

JARVIS alerts Bucky to Steve’s return and he is on his feet and moving towards the door when it opens. Steve is standing there and clinging to him, small arms wrapped around his , is a child. Behind him is a much, much shorter woman.

  
The little girl peers at him with familiar bright blue eyes.

“Steve,” he says, eyeing the child, “why do you have a monkey crawling all over you?”

“’M not a monkey,” the monkey says, blue eyes narrowing and lower lip sticking out in an utterly adorable pout.

Bucky grins. “Whatever you say squirt.”

Steve, beaming, says, “Buck, I’d like you to meet my daughter Sarah Margaret Rogers.”

 

* * *

 

On Steve’s fifth day back Bucky tells him about his newly discovered Soulmate.

“You should talk to Callie about Lena,” Steve suggests.

Bucky frowns. “Why?”

“She’s Lena’s sister.”

Bucky glances at Callie. She’s in the kitchen making lunch. Her heritage is obviously a mixed one, most likely African American and Caucasian, whereas Lena is undeniably Hispanic. He does not see how they are sisters. When he tells Steve as much his blond friend shakes his head. “Not by blood,” he says. “Callie calls it sister-from-another-mister.”

Bucky frowns at him.

Steve shrugs. “They’re like us. They grew up together, looked out for each other, that sort of thing.”

Bucky nods, glancing back Callie. “When do you think would be a good time to ask her?”

Steve shrugs. “Now is as good a time as any. Sammy is down for her nap and shouldn’t wake up for at least another hour. Hey Callie,” he calls to his Soulmate, twisting in the chair so his back pops, “Bucky has some questions for you.”

Callie turns, a smile on her full lips. “One minute,” she says. Picking up the two glass dishes of lasagna she slides them into the open oven. With her hand still encases in a gaudy yellow and pink oven mitten—a belated baby shower gift from Darcy—she closes the oven’s door and sets the timer. “Alright,” she says, slipping the mitts from her hands and turning toward the soldiers sitting at the dining room table. “Questions for me?” she asks, approaching the table, turning that bright smile from Steve to Bucky.

Bucky ducks his head and rubs his hands over his face. He swears he’s going to kill Steve one of these days.

Steve grins at his friend and stands, offering his chair to Callie. “Why don’t I just let you two talk?” He kisses her forehead and wanders off, most likely to join Sammy in her nap, leaving Callie and Bucky sitting across from each other in almost uncomfortable silence. It stretches between them until finally Callie says, “What did you need to ask me about?”

Bucky sighs and reluctantly tells her about Lena. His gut twists as the words spill from his mouth but he seems unable to stop. When he finally finishes he can’t help but ask, his voice small and almost scared, “Why did she run?”

Callie’s smile has turned soft as she listened to Bucky’s story. “So you’re “I don’t have one”,” she says. At Bucky’s feeble nod Callie leans forward slightly. “Did you know your words didn’t always stick around?” she asks, voice soft. “They’d show up out of the blue, stay for a day or two, maybe a week though that was rare, and then disappear again. From what Steve has told me I’m guessing those were times you were let out of cryo.”

Bucky nods. It makes sense. “But why did she run?” he asks again.

Callie bites her bottom lip. “Well,” she says slowly, “closest I can think is she’s angry. Not at you,” she hastily adds when Bucky flinches. “She’s mad at SHIELDRA. From what she’s told me, part of her deal with SHIELD was they would help her find and keep her Soulmate safe. To find out they had you all this time?” Callie cocks her head and shrugs. “Lena doesn’t handle anger well.”

Bucky nods again; it sort of makes sense. “Alright. So where do you think she is now?”

“Europe.” The answer is given without hesitation. It displays a familiarity with Lena. Callie knows Lena, knows where she would go if she wanted to run. “She’s probably doing some serious retail therapy.”

“Retail therapy?”  
Callie shrugs. "Lena is a thief. Retail therapy is what she calls it when she free-lances.”

"She's stealing?"

Callie tries her best not to laugh. Bucky sounds almost appalled at the idea of his Soulmate stealing which is ridiculous given his history. Of course that reminder quickly sobers her up. "We hope so," she tells him honestly.

Bucky frowns. "Why?"

Callie sighs. Now is the time to be brutally honest. "Because,” she says, looking him firmly in the eyes, “if Lena's not stealing then she's killing."

Bucky freezes at that. Silence stretches between them, uncomfortable and thick until, finally, Bucky says, "She's an assassin." It's a statement, not a question. It drops from his mouth like a stone and he feels that small spark of hope he's nurtured since her words first appeared on his skin die. His Soulmate is an assassin, just like him. Figures.

Callie shakes her head fervently, brown curls swinging. "Not anymore. Not for SHIELD. But she was trained as one when she was younger and she has no qualms using those skills with the right incentive."

"If she's not a SHIELD assassin then who is she killing for?" Bucky's voice is calm, cool. It's the dead voice he uses on missions. His laser point gaze is fixed firmly on the wall just to the left of Callie's head but all of his attention is on her. He studies her micro expressions as she talks, gathering as much Intel on the woman who is his Soulmate as he can. The quirk of a smile tells him that Callie is fond of Lena. The uneasy shift in her seat as she speaks of Lena's past tells him that she's not comfortable talking about it and he probably won't be getting any more information about it from her.

"She kills for herself," Callie says quietly. Her eyes have moved from his face down to the tabletop and one finger traces invisible patterns on the wooden surface. "She kills to put herself at ease. The idea that there are people out there who are actively trying to hurt someone she considers hers makes her uncomfortable. She doesn’t like being uncomfortable."

"Is it you? Are you in danger?"

Callie’s head jerks up, her big gray eyes startled. "What? Me? No!" She shakes her head fervently, the idea obviously ludicrous to her.

Bucky cocks his head. "Then who?"

Callie returns his frown with one of her own. It draws her eyebrows together and creases her forehead. "I thought that would be obvious," she says. "You."

Bucky's gaze snaps to her face. She's looking at him as if surprised he hadn't known that already, as if Lena caring about him is common knowledge. "Me?" he asks and even to him his voice sounds strangled, as if he tried to say the word without enough oxygen.

Callie nods but she's still frowning. "Yes."

Bucky swallows thickly. "How many so far?"

"In the two weeks of radio silence we have had from Lena three known HYDRA operatives have been found dead and all have shown signs of having undergone some form of torture,” Callie rattles off almost like giving a report.

Bucky’s jaw tightens. “Torture.” Again, it’s not a question. He knows torture, has undergone and given his fair share of it. It’s not something he would have thought the bubbly Cuban woman capable of. He still remembers her, one hand holding back her waterfall of thick black hair, bronze skinned hand held out for a hair-tie because she thought he was someone else. The way her head snapped around so fast he thought her neck would break. How her eyes, a deep vibrant blue that seared him to the core, had widened and then she’d vanished. If not for Natasha commenting, with a shrug, that sometimes Lena did that when she was embarrassed, Bucky would have thought he had imagined her.

Callie shrugs. “She’s good at it,” she tells him. “Not the painful kind but the psychological kind.” When he just stares blankly at her Callie hastens to elaborate. “She’s a mutant, like me. She can turn invisible and she uses that.” Callie shifts uncomfortably in her seat, eyes darting all around. “Her old handlers, before SHIELD,” Callie fixes him with a steady gray gaze, “well, let’s just say she didn’t always work for the good guys.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmares and torture

Callie wakes up screaming. Blood streaks across her vision like grotesque paint. Fear that isn't hers makes her mouth tacky. Her breath comes in short gasps. She tries valiantly to disentangle herself from the blankets of her bed but to no avail, they squeeze tighter and tighter like a boa constrictor, pinning her legs and arms, making it almost impossible to do anything but thrash like a worm. 

" _Бабочка_?" A gentle voice calls from the hall. 

"I'm stuck in my sheets," Callie calls back relieved, body instantly relaxing at the Russian nickname, "Can you—?”

Before she can finish her request a fair-skinned woman with a shock of scarlet curls appears at her bedside, hands, so long believed to be only good for death and destruction, unwrapping her from her cocoon as gently as a mother handling her child. 

Callie smiles in relief as bit by bit she can move easier. "Thank you, Tasha." Once she is completely free Callie shimmies out from beneath her covers and sits up, swinging her feet over the side of the bed so they rest on the plush carpet. 

Natasha Romanov, known in the underworld as the Black Widow, smiles at Callie. "Nightmare?" She asks mildly. It's dark in Callie's bedroom so the younger woman cannot see the concern in Natasha's green eyes and the Russian's mental walls are too secure for Callie to read her emotions.  Callie does not know of Natasha's worry, does not know of her concern. Callie is Natasha’s safe harbor, the place she and Clint and Lena can go for peace, their calm in the storm. To see the younger woman screaming is...unsettling. 

Callie shakes her head. “No. I don’t think so. At least, if they are nightmares they’re not mine. I think someone I’m attuned to is having them.”

"Attuned?" Natasha prompts, settling herself on the bed beside Callie. 

Callie nods. "I'm receptive to the emotions of people I am familiar with. The more familiar I am with the person, the more of their emotions I know. It also increases the distance at which I can sense what they are feeling. For me to have access to their emotions while they’re sleeping I must be very familiar with them, have known them for years in…fact... _shit_!”

Suddenly Callie is off the bed, running, stumbling for the door. “Shit! Shit shit _shit!”_ She races down the hall, Natasha hot on her heels.

Before Callie can make the apartment door Natasha grips her arm, pulling the shorter woman to an abrupt stop. “Callie! What is it?”

Callie whips around, one hand on the apartment’s doorknob. “The only person I have that kind of connection with is Lena,” she hisses, “and Lena doesn’t dream. _Ever._ She’s physically incapable. They aren’t nightmares, they’re _torture sessions_.”

“ _Дерьмо_.”

It takes less than thirty minutes for the adult residents of The Tower to gather in the communal living space just under Stark’s penthouse. Steve is absent on a mission, Thor is back in Asgard with Jane, introducing her to the realm as his future queen, and Pepper had a business meeting in Chicago but the others are there. When Darcy she sees her friend’s fear-white face she wraps an arm around Callie’s shoulders. Bruce and Tony sit side-by-side at the bar, facing away from the counter. Clint perches on the back of the couch, keeping everyone in view. Natasha watches Callie from near the door where she had stopped after following Callie into the room and Bucky is leaning against the far wall, watching her closely, just as he has ever since Steve left for his mission. Callie suspects her Soulmate asked his brother to keep an eye on her while he was gone.

Heart thumping in her chest, Callie opens her mouth to speak but suddenly blinding pain pierces her brain. Fear, pure and unadulterated, floods her senses. Rust red slashes obscure her vision. Her legs give out. She collapses, clutching the sides of her head. Anger burns the fear away, hot and fire-bright and just as painful. Her psyche screams at the abuse.

The pain is gone just as fast as it came. Callie opens her eyes to the worried face of Darcy leaning over her. “What happened?”

Callie blinks at Darcy’s question. She tries to sit up but her muscles are wobbly. A cool metal arm reaches out to steady her. She leans into it gratefully, gasping for air. Bucky adjusts to better take her weight, allowing her exhausted body to rest completely against him. Her psyche is wrung-out, completely numb. Her sense of the others is muted like her hearing would be after a bomb detonates. Her heartbeat has increased tenfold. She looks around, bleary gaze peering out from Bucky’s embrace. Bruce and Tony are on their feet now, Bruce coming to kneel beside her, his cool, gentle fingers reaching for the pulse point on her right wrist. Tony eyes her critically as if trying to decide what action it is best for him to take. Clint has moved closer too, standing stiffly halfway between his perch and her. She can’t see Natasha through Darcy but she’s willing to bet the redhead is less than five feet away.

“It’s Lena,” she gasps. That second burst of pain has solidified it in her mind. Callie knows Lena, knows the feel of her emotions better than she knows her own. The blinding pain, the white-hot rage, Callie knows they are Lena’s like she knows her own name.

Bucky immediately stiffens. “Explain,” he says, voice almost a growl.

“She’s been captured, taken. The Cubans have her.” That last part slips unbidden from Callie’s lips but as soon as the words are said she knows them to be true. It had been in that last bout of emotion. Lena is so rarely angry. That pure, unadulterated rage tinged with fear and hate can only be brought on by her old masters. It is the kind of hate that gives a sixteen year old girl the courage to burn the only family she has ever known to smoldering ash.

Enemy identified, the Avengers leap into action. Tony walks from the room, calling for JARVIS to connect him to Steve; Natasha and Clint share a loaded look and disappear, no doubt to dig up as much information as they can on Cuba’s intelligence network; and Bucky slides his flesh arm under Callie’s knees and lifts her into his arms, carrying her to the elevator with Darcy and Bruce trailing after him.

As the elevator doors slide shut Bruce suggests quietly that they take Callie to The Tower’s medical floor. Bucky nixes that idea before Callie can open her mouth to protest. “No,” he says. “Callie needs to sleep. You can examine her in the morning.” Looking to Darcy he continues, “Would you mind staying with her? I’ll be there too but it might help to have someone in the room with her and I can look after Sammy while you watch Callie.”

Darcy nods. “Of course.”

Callie lifts her head from Bucky’s surprisingly comfortable shoulder and scowls. “That’s not necessary,” she protests.

“Humor us?” Bucky asks. “Steve’d kill me if anything happened to you.”

Callie maintains her pout but doesn’t argue. Bucky grins and when the elevator doors open he leads Darcy and Bruce to Callie’s door.

Sammy is still in her bed when Bucky goes to check on her after settling Callie in the master bedroom with Darcy. He bids Bruce goodnight when he passes the shorter man in the hallway, Bruce slipping into the apartment’s third, smallest bedroom just in case. Bucky watches Sammy for a moment, amazed the little girl was able to sleep through all noise. Satisfied that his Goddaughter is safe and sound, Bucky pushes himself off the door jam and goes to the kitchen to get a drink. It’s as he’s tilting the glass back for his final gulp of cool clear water that he finally allows himself to dwell on Lena.

He’s not really sure why the Cubans being involved is a bad thing but he knows that look on Natasha’s face when Callie had named them as Lena’s tormentors. Whatever his Soulmate’s deal with the Cubans is, it isn’t good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Бабочка – “babochka” – butterfly  
> Дерьмо – “der’mo” – shit


End file.
